


Be Careful How You Lick Your Wounds

by Fudgyokra



Series: Kinktober 2017 [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Blood Kink, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 11:39:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12387351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fudgyokra/pseuds/Fudgyokra
Summary: “You look like you could use a bite to eat."





	Be Careful How You Lick Your Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Third prompt fill for Kinktober! This is also just a teeny bit inclusive of the costume kink, but since it’s just regular ol’ Bats and Joker, it’s not really applicable.
> 
> Day 17: Blood/Gore* | Costume | Massage

The Bat came crawling through the night, as he often did, in complete silence. What alerted Joker to his presence was a well-aimed batarang catching him in the junction between neck and shoulder, at which he released a hiss exuding both pain and excitement. In accordance, he white-knuckled the gun that was still in his hand from an earlier skirmish.

“Looking for trouble?” Bruce asked, not at all like he intended to humor the answer. His mouth was an unreadable line until he located the wound—not from his own hand, but from something nastier—across the other man’s stomach. Around the slash mark, the Joker’s shirt hung in a torn circle, acting as a blood-stained, cotton recreation of a picture frame.

“Just got done, actually,” Joker replied. His grin stretched wide across his face. “But I could always use a little more.” When Bruce locked fingers around his wrist, he did not flinch; when the other’s free hand curiously probed the serrated skin, he did. “Yeesh, doctor,” he said through clenched teeth, “gentleness is an art.”

“Didn’t think that was your preference,” Bruce answered flatly. Joker could sense that his interest was piqued, though, because Joker always seemed to know something about him that Bruce himself did not.

“Maybe you’re projecting onto me,” he replied, eyes glinting in the moonlight in a way that made Bruce’s stomach turn faster than the sight of blood ever could.

“Not likely.” That was a lie.

Bruce removed his gloves, and so Joker reflexively backed against the cold brick of the alley wall with a wicked smile on his lips. When he was commanded to drop the gun, he did—literally, in fact, which made Bruce flinch. It wasn’t loaded.

When strong hands moved to jam his hips back against the wall, Joker retaliated with delicate strokes of his fingers along the Bat’s jawline. “You look like you could use a bite to eat,” he teased, watching with satisfaction as Bruce, expectedly, bared his teeth. “You know, you got some real numbskulls lurking around these parts,” he commented casually, even as Bruce yanked what remained of his shirt apart and began grazing his teeth along his collarbone. “The loon that gave me _that_ little number…” he watched, pupils dilating with every movement, as Bruce’s lips brushed against the wound in question, smearing his mouth in blood. “Well, he brought a knife to a gunfight.”

Bruce’s eyes flickered to the weapon on the ground, then back up to Joker’s face. When their eyes met, the latter said with a purposeful smile, “You look awfully pretty when you’re down on your knees.”

The comment went ignored. “Did you shoot him?” Bruce asked. It was obvious what the answer was going to be, but he needed it to be said aloud.

“I might have,” Joker supplied, leaning his head back against the wall when Bruce yanked his zipper open and dragged his pants down to his ankles. He left streaks of red across the front of green boxers as he mouthed at him through the fabric, and Joker let his eyes flutter close at the heat. “I didn’t kill him, though, My Noble Bat.”

Bruce paused and scowled. Joker knew it wasn’t so much at the name as it was the admittance. “Just left him with a limp,” the former guessed.

“A nice, bloody one,” Joker added, grinning when Bruce yanked the boxers down and got his mouth around half of his length like he’d drop dead without it. “Bats,” the other man ground out, grabbing one ear of the cowl and giving a weak laugh, “you are one strange creature, you know that?”

Bruce did. He didn’t have to explain that to _Joker_ , though, and clearly the clown was not keen on making him, especially when his cock was in the man’s throat and he looked all nice and submissive down on his knees in that stupid costume of his. He’d taken the cowl off before, sure, but Joker preferred it on. Wayne was a pretty little thing, but the idea of the fierce and mighty Batman sucking him off in an alley was a bit more enticing.

While Bruce’s mouth worked him, Joker took a shaky breath and yanked the batarang out of his skin with a grunt of pain. The sound, coupled with the trickle of blood that slid down his pale chest, prompted Bruce to pull back. Joker wished he could have taken a picture of this moment, where Bruce laved his tongue up the stripe of red and then across the gouge in his stomach. He came up to his neck, put his mouth right on the slice that the thin blade had left there and sucked.

It made Joker squirm in his hands. “I wouldn’t have guessed you were a vampire bat,” he said, giggling obnoxiously until the tip of Bruce’s tongue lashed out to stab at the wound pointedly. “Okay, I get it,” he amended, pressing his fingers into Bruce’s forearms, “now get back on your knees, would you, darling?”

Bruce took a step back and flipped him around, shoving his cheek against the wall and drawing a surprised exclamation in the process. His fingers wound securely into green locks, which kept his head down while he reached for his toolbelt with the other.

“I see we have other ideas,” Joker said, splaying his fingers on either side of his head. “I ought to get stabbed more often.” They’d done this often enough for Bruce to have come prepared, and so at least the fingers that pressed against him were lube-slicked and thus spared Joker from further bleeding, not that he minded. “With a knife, I mean,” he added, smiling at his juvenile joke. He thought he heard Bruce chuckle, but facing the idea that the Bat would laugh at something _he_ said made something in his already-fried brain short-circuit, so he pretended he hadn’t heard a thing.

After impatient preparation and much goading on Joker’s part, they were in motion. Obviously, blood did a hell of a lot of favors for them both since Bruce was already rock-hard when they started and was now pulling Joker’s bony hips back against him to meet every thrust until Joker thought he might actually yell himself hoarse.

He’d scraped his nails ragged against the brick by the time Bruce finally got a hand around his cock and jerked him. He felt the need to put his hands around Bruce’s, as if in fear he’d let go because _fuck,_ he didn’t think he’d live if the Bat stopped touching him.

Bruce bit down on the wound in his neck until blood stained his teeth and dripped down his chin. Joker hashed out expletives as he came, painting a mess on the wall seconds before Bruce pulled out and did much of the same to the small of Joker’s back.

They stood like that for a while, panting into the too-silent night until Joker fished out a handkerchief to clean himself. He turned to admire the other’s mouth, stained with red much like his own, only without the aid of makeup. It was a nice sight, even if his shoulder stung like a bitch and his stomach was protesting every move he made.

With some satisfaction, he realized that petty crime in the alleys of Gotham City had even more perks than he’d initially thought.


End file.
